DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Vards decided to split up, as soon as they reached the outskirts
of Vallsynk. Individually, they had a much better chance to
reach their targets unnoticed. And with the recent return of the army, the
streets were almost empty. From the loud noise coming out of numerous taverns,
it wasn’t hard to realize where all of the townsfolk ended.
Vlaazh Niykav moved swiftly through
the dark and narrow alleys, passing through the residential district, and
towards the business quarter. Uniformed rows of four story buildings were
stretching on both sides of the street. With the same brown, bland facades, and
identical sets of windows. Each could house up to a hundred people, and with
its low maintenance costs, they were affordable for practically everyone. One patrol
made him stop for a couple of moments, but the guards were just passing by.
Vlaazh had no need to worry.
Twenty odd minutes later, he reached the business district, in whose exact center was a tall building of the main mercantile guild. Two soldiers were leaning on the fence surrounding the estate, supposedly guarding the entrance. They seemed to have a rather amusing conversation, not minding their duties. Vard could not have hoped for a better opportunity. It was practically an invitation. He sneaked by them with ease, shortly stopping under a small, ground floor window. The room was dark, but he had to be sure it was empty, before climbing inside.
Vlaazh did not shy from a fight,
but he wanted to finish the task with the least effort. Vards were patient and
cautious by nature, approaching everything meticulously. Giving them a great
advantage, in these kinds of situations. Small office of some merchant’s
secretary was empty. Vlaazh was in luck once more, as he found the doors
opened. Clerk must have forgotten to lock them.
Small, lit, oil lamp was hanging in
the far end of the corridor. Vard bent almost to the crawl, heading towards the
staircase. His steps were careful and quiet. Narrow stairs led all the way up
to the last, sixth floor of the building. He was nearing the source of the
voices, coming from behind the large, wooden doors. Vlaazh waited for a moment,
just to be sure there’s no one else on this floor. Quickly removing his hood,
vard stepped inside the office.
“Ah it’s you, Xavnier. Excellent.”
Gaunt, tall merchant, almost jumped out of his armchair “Pay up Panmorn, you’ve
lost fair and square.”
“Damned elf had to be late today.”
another, rather fat, bald merchant retorted angrily, taking out a small,
leather pouch from his pocket “I think you’ll find ten gold coins inside.”
“I believe you.” Fletcher said,
cheering with the mug of red wine.
Panmorn tossed the wallet in the
merchant's lap, turning towards the fireplace. He grunted and moaned, lifting
one of the logs, throwing it carefully on the small fire. Thousands of sparks
flew up the sooty chimney, rekindling the flames in a tiny cloud of smoke and
ashes. Fat merchant coughed loudly, wiping his eyes.
“Pour me some mead Fletcher, I need
to wash down my throat. This damn smoke nearly cho…”
Panmorn’s words disappeared in a
silent groan, as the sharp dagger pierced through his chest. Blade stopped just
below his heart. Fat merchant could feel its coolness.
“B…but Xavnier, what is the meaning
of this?” Panmorn still had the strength to say a few words.
His terrified eyes searched for
Fletcher, but the lanky merchant could not have helped anymore. He was dead.
Horror appeared on his face, once Panmorn realized his fate was no different.
He tried to push the attacker, but was too weak, and too slow. Second dagger
plunged just underneath his left arm. Blade scraped loudly, slitting in between
the ribs, making the fat merchant jerk aside in pain.
“Xavnier, why are you doing this?”
Panmorn coughed a little bit of blood, stumbling to his knees “You can stop…”
Vlaazh pushed him away, letting him
fall. Supine, flat on his back, Panmorn hectically rolled his eyes, not able to
move.
“Eilonna sends you her regards.”
Vlaazh whispered in the merchant's ear.
Councilor tried to speak, but vard
pushed both of his blades deeper into his torso. Small trace of energy
transferred from Vlaazh’s palms, through the daggers and into the heart. Sudden
change of pressure, doubled its size. Blood flow rushed through the heart at an
enormous rate, at the exact moment as blades punctured it. Vlaazh could hear
the merchant’s ticker exploding. Panmorn was dead.
Vard wasn’t wasting any time,
picking up the bodies, and placing them in their chairs. He saw a lot of
bottles and jugs of various alcoholic beverages, stored inside a rather large
cabinet, to the left of the fireplace. And it gave him the idea. Couple of
minutes later, he was rushing over the square, a few streets away.
Top floor of the mercantile guild’s
building was already engulfed in flames, as Vlaazh headed towards the mansion
of the third councilor. Others were without a shadow of a doubt already in
there. He decided to go and meet with them, but at that moment he saw a barely
noticeable shadow, moving to the right of him. Figure was very quiet, and
moving quickly. It was luck, he even spotted him.
Vard took a turn in the nearest
alleyway. Large, wooden barrel standing against the wall of the house provided
a nice cover. His tail soon peaked behind the corner, but seeing he lost the
vard, stood there for a couple of seconds, thinking. In several tiny, nervous
steps, a figure neared the barrel, unaware of a hidden assassin. Vlaazh
suddenly walked out of the shadows, right behind the figure. Short, worrisome
moment passed quickly, when vard realized it was halfling Xavnier Gloir,
standing in front of him.
“What are you doing outside, here,
you crazy halfling?” vard whispered, refraining to scream “You could have died,
just now.”
“Just wanted to see if everything
is going according to the plan.” Xavnier retorted “Once you missed to show up,
back at the docks, I feared something bad had happened.”
“I must apologize for that.” Vlaazh
nodded “As I was coming here, I saw my old friend, Saekul.” vard looked down
the alley, wanting to be sure they were alone “Curiosity took over me, I had to
find out what’s his take on all of this.”
“About what? Assassinations?”
halfling became pale “What madness made you do that?”
“I had to know where his loyalty
lies.”
“And?”
“He does not care.” Vlaazh smiled,
“Which is very good for you.”
“I don’t understand, what do you
mean?”
“You can count on his support and
assistance, once the events of this night come up for questioning.” vard looked
Xavnier straight into his eyes “Or you think no one will ask, how come you are
the only one surviving this ordeal?”
In all truth, halfling never even
thought about it. But now, hearing these words, he became petrified in fear.
Councilors had a lot of powerful allies. If any one of them decides to ordain
the extensive inquiry, it could backfire and lead straight to him. Suddenly,
Xavnier felt more vulnerable than ever. Why didn’t he think of this? Everything
now seemed like a huge mistake, and an ill conceived idea. Why did he let
Eilonna coax him? Yes, she was very good, skilful and sly with her promises.
She played him. He now understood why she needed him. She was going to blame
him, accuse him. She was going to make him the one responsible. Guilty. His
paranoid fear reached its peak, but was interrupted with a silent noise coming
from the far end of the street.
“Sir, we have a problem.” one of
the vard assassins appeared from the dark “One of the councilors managed to
escape.”
“Run straight to your home.” Vlaazh
ordered sharply, pushing the halfling away “Let’s go soldier.”
Xavnier wasn’t to be told twice, as
he dashed across the alley. Small and swift, he was fast gone in the darkened
streets of Vallsynk. At the same time, Vlaazh was rushing towards the elven
councilor’s mansion. In just a couple of minutes, four of the assassins met not
far from it. One of the vards was holding his abdomen, barely managing to stand
on his feet. Deep stab wound, presumably made with some sort of a dagger, bled
heavily. Vard needed help immediately.
Commotion, a ruckus, coming several
streets away from them, left them with no choice. They had to flee the city,
and fast. The fires spread over the entire last floor of the merchant’s guild
building, drawing a lot of townsfolk out from their homes, and into the
streets. Couple of guardsmen tried to organize the extinguishing attempt, but
the height of the building presented an insurmountable obstacle. And no one
wanted to volunteer, and try to do it from the inside. Powerless, they were
watching silent in defeat, as the flames engulfed the guild’s building.
Hidden behind the drawn curtains, Xavnier
peeped through the window, interested in happenings at
the main square. The building was lost. There was no time, nor way, to try and
safely extinguish the fire. Halfling sighed, walking away from the window.
Couple of valuables he kept inside of his office were also lost forever. He
liked going there. Spending time, surrounded with money, dealing with different
transactions, business propositions and contracts. That job was his life, and
he loved it.
But those days were now over,
Xavnier was to become Lord. Or perhaps not. Apparently, Zanveen’s escaped, and
he could turn out to be a huge problem. Halfling had to think, and think fast.
Sudden, loud sounds of crashing, rumbling and shattering, followed by several
terrified screams, made halfling run back, towards the window. The guild's
building toppled down, once the wooden beams burned away, giving under the
weight of stone blocks. Ruin was still in flames. Smoke and dust covered half
of the square.
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